Wolves
by deinvati
Summary: Eames wakes up in a pile of his pack members and thinks it's the best thing ever. But something's missing. Arthur/Eames as wolves. Not even werewolves. Just regular wolves. Fluffy, cracky ridiculousness.


Eames snorted in his sleep as one of his pack members started to kick, some dream or other making their nose and legs twitch, and he flopped a heavy paw across their side. It calmed them and they went back to sleep, but Eames stretched on the warm pile of bodies, starting to wake despite himself. He was young for a wolf, but old for one still allowed in the sleeping pile. Once the urge to breed kicked in, wolves were kicked out. Not _out of the pack_ , never that, but he would be expected to roam a bit further, hunt more on his own, and sleep with his new mate rather than his litter mates. He didn't mind the thought of any of that, really, but he enjoyed the warm nest of bodies while he had them, and let his sleepy mind wonder, once again, what kind of mate would possibly be better than this.

He hadn't been interested in any of the females in the pack, and it wasn't the first time he thought he might be being too picky. He got along with all of them alright, and the small she-wolf known as Ariadne was a particular favourite of his to play with. But he couldn't imagine _mating_ them. Not even the pretty red that had sashayed past him yesterday, flipping her tail under his nose and presenting as she walked off. Sure, he knew she was pretty, he wasn't blind. Her foxy eyes were exotic and he'd heard enough about her haunches from the others to last him a lifetime. But he couldn't pin down exactly what it was about her that wasn't appealing.

It bothered him, but he tried not to focus on it. Especially when being a part of the young of the pack allowed for so much play-he wasn't going to give that up if he didn't have to. He smiled, letting his tongue loll as he remembered the patch of mint he'd found yesterday, and how it had kicked up strong clouds of scent as he pushed Ariadne over into it. Oh, how he'd laughed at the _look_ on her face! She had sneezed for five minutes and then they spent the rest of the afternoon chasing and pushing each other over and making the clouds roll all around them. His pack had complained so loudly they'd swum in the river before bed, and Eames had shaken his fur dry in the setting sun, thinking it didn't get much better than this.

Which was worrisome. His eyes snapped open, unable to stay under the dreamy haze he'd been grasping after, and he stirred. He carefully extracted himself from the cosy huddle of bodies and stretched, savouring the pull in his shoulders and hips. He shook once, twice, and sneezed the pack smell out of his nose so he could scent the dawn. It was lovely.

He padded out of the den and greeted Dom, the older wolf on guard, with a playful nip to the ear, but Dom cuffed him, as usual, and went back to squinting into the forest. He took his shift very seriously, and he wouldn't have some young punk messing-

Both Eames and Dom stood abruptly at the strange male scent they picked up when the breeze shifted. An alpha, it seemed, but it was hard to tell at this distance. What was an alpha doing this far into their territory? Surely they'd have noticed another pack moving in? Maybe it was a recon mission to find out their defences. Or maybe it was a diplomatic party letting them know about something going on in the reserve. That was probably more likely, and Eames tried to calm Dom down. He would go. Dom should stay and watch after the pack, Eames was more expendable and he'd holler if he got into trouble. Well, if he got into trouble he couldn't get out of. Well, if he got into trouble he couldn't get out of but _wanted_ to. He grinned at Dom and loped away down the hill, following his nose.

He circled the scent for a good while, taking care to map its path and speed. It seemed to be heading more or less in a northeasterly direction, toward the river and going at a casual trot. He stayed down wind, no sense getting the other wolf's mane ruffled if he didn't have to, and at one point he thought he might have slipped up when the breeze shifted slightly, but the other wolf kept on.

Sure enough, they headed toward the river, and Eames hesitated. The other wolf would scent him if he went any closer, the water was good for that. On the other hand, what was he doing out here if not finding out what the other wolf wanted? His tongue finally decided for him, as it flopped out of his mouth, dripping from the steady pace the other wolf had set in the morning heat.

He approached steadily, shifting down wind and tensing as his scent was taken to where the other wolf was, and he kept his guard up. He wasn't exactly showing his belly here, but he had a feeling Dom wouldn't think so.

He came over the ridge and had his first view of the water. The trees were coming into bloom, the flowering ones dropping their petals into the slowly chugging current and usually, Eames loved to watch them swirl away. He had spent many hours doing exactly that, especially now that winter had finally shaken off its coat and it seemed the warmth was going to stay. He drew the air into his lungs, letting it roll over his tongue and tasting the strange alpha scent it carried. It was stronger here, and it was an… intriguing smell. Different. Striking. Bit dangerous. Interesting at the very least. And combined with the water and the petals, it was pleasing. Which was worrisome.

Eames shook his head. He had a job to do. He headed for lower ground, his muzzle in the dirt, the better to pick up the trail he'd no doubt lost in his musings. He paused at the water's edge, paw prints and scent taking over his brain. He smelled so… good. He didn't have another word for it. He sniffed gently at the prints where the alpha had paused to drink, and he couldn't help doing the same. It was warming up, and he would be stupid to turn down the opportunity to drink now, he told himself, ignoring the stupid thrill that ran through him as he placed his paws inside the slightly larger set of prints and lowered his muzzle to lap at the water.

That was when he smelled him. The water swirled at just the right moment and Eames jolted backwards, sure his death would be slashing out at him in a frenzy of teeth and claws, and god, wouldn't Dom love to gloat about that. Stupid Eames, couldn't see the wolf for the paw prints.

But the other wolf wasn't attacking. He was… sitting. He cocked his head at Eames's flailing backwards, and Eames could swear he was smirking. Eames backed up anyway, ruffling the fur on his neck properly and hulking up for good measure. He was big for his age, he knew it, and it was probably why Dom had let him go out by himself on this one. But the other wolf didn't appear to be intimidated. In fact, he just sat there, about ten feet away, watching Eames.

He was beautiful. His grey fur was tinged with black, covering the tips of his large ears and his muzzle. He looked so elegant. Regal. He was a bit skinny, but that was okay. Whatever Eames's previous concerns, the other wolf definitely wasn't from around here. He'd never seen or smelled someone so gorgeous before.

Eames blinked, realising far too late he'd been staring at the stranger with his tongue hanging out, trying to absorb as much of his scent as he could. With a loud snuff, Eames pushed it out of his nose and drew his lips back instead. What did he think of that?

The other wolf didn't return the sneer, just continued to look at Eames, assessing.

Eames tried out a low growl, just to see what would happen, and the other wolf stiffened. He flicked an ear in annoyance and raised his snout in the air. He looked like he was going to get up and leave if Eames didn't stop being so rude, and Eames panicked a bit. He didn't want him to go. He couldn't decide if he wanted this wolf to be here in a diplomatic sense, which meant he wouldn't have to spend all this time posturing and perhaps fighting this perfect specimen in front of him, or if he'd prefer a pack that was attempting to move in on their territory, because then he'd be staying in the area and Eames would get to see him more.

The second. Definitely.

He stopped the growl immediately and his anxiousness about the other wolf leaving tightened his throat so it ended with an embarrassing yip at the end. The grey wolf settled again, but this time with a pointed glare at Eames.

It made Eames want to laugh, which of course he couldn't do because he was supposed to be representing the pack but he couldn't help the from that spread over his face. Because, come on. Look at that snout. And the prim way he settled his paws. He was adorable. It made Eames want to push him into a mint patch and roll him over and over. In fact, he thought about suggesting that right then. He could feel his tail start to wag in invitation and he made the embarrassing yip again, just to see the other wolf's lip curl.

And then Eames's head started to fill with all kinds of silly impulses, none of which he could act on. Like the one that said to pull at the wolf's ears or maybe even nip his haunches. And such nice haunches they were. Or the one that said to lick along his whiskers, which were kept so slick and straight it made Eames want to nuzzle in and push them all askew.

Luckily, before he could justify any of those to himself, he caught a scent on the wind. It was her.

Eames immediately straightened in awareness and respect and waited. He couldn't keep his eyes from flickering to the grey though and saw that he'd risen to all fours and looking at Eames with concern. Eames scanned the clearing quickly and gave a low sound of alarm to the other wolf. This was big. He needed to sit and submit, now, or this would end badly for both of them.

The other wolf cocked his head again, further this time, but he sat again, paws adorably and precisely placed on the sandy shore, and waited.

Then she was stepping out of the forest, _her_ , the great she-wolf of their pack, the matriarch - Mal.

She was tall and dignified, her carriage aristocratic. Eames kept his eyes down, his head tilted slightly to show his throat as she made her way towards them. Dom followed slightly behind her, as usual whenever she left the glen, and he cast a wary eye on Eames as she passed by. She ignored Eames and walked straight to where the stranger sat, neither posturing nor submitting.

Mal's dark coat ruffled with rebuke, but the grey didn't move. He wasn't challenging her, thank god, just staring somewhere past her shoulder, his mouth open from his earlier exertions. Eames could hear his soft panting in the stillness.

Mal stepped closer to him and he rose to his feet, going very still and Eames rose also, edging closer. Mal let out a low, warning growl as she approached and came to scent him. He allowed it, which was wise, and Mal spent quite a bit of time nosing over his attractive coat. Eames couldn't tell what she was looking for, but she wasn't growling or bristling and Eames's tail started a hopeful wag.

Finally, she finished her investigation, although Eames wasn't sure what she'd found out, and she placed herself in front of the stranger, demanding his submission.

This was it. Mal's word was law, and if he didn't submit, Eames would have no choice.

She nipped at the stranger's flank, hard, when he didn't show his throat right away. He had to yield. He _had_ to. A sudden panic gripped Eames's heart at the thought that this handsome stranger would try to challenge her, with two of her pack nearby, and expect to walk out of here. Because he wasn't backing down. He wasn't submitting, and oh shit, he was bracing himself, and growling, and shit, shit, shit.

Eames heard the high-pitched whine before he realised it was coming from his own mouth. Before he could stop himself, he was between them, but his attention was focused on Mal. He put his head under her chin in greeting, snuffling in her familiar scent, and generally making an ass of himself. She flicked her ear in annoyance and Eames held his breath. Tentatively, oh so carefully, he put his nose right at the corner of her mouth. Please, Mother.

She huffed her surprise and backed up a step. Her eyes flashed back and forth between Eames and the new wolf. Eames whined again, quietly, and gave her a soft nip on the mane. He rolled over, showing his belly and smiling at her and she regarded him. He reached up, asking her to play, but she ignored him. Instead, she leant down, and licked a single stripe up his forehead. Eames blinked as she turned away. Well.

He righted himself, still unsure where she stood on the new wolf's place. But she was snuffing his scent out of her nose and loping towards the treeline. Dom turned to follow her, but not before squinting at Eames and curling his lip at the newcomer. Eames laughed and braced his paws in the sand in an invitation to wrestle with the older wolf. Dom bristled with indignation and Eames laughed again, running happy circles around Dom as he tried to follow Mal.

Once they were gone, melting into the early morning shadows under the new leaves overhead, Eames turned back with a joyful bound. He raced up to the grey, who was still standing stiffly, and landed a playful cuff on his shoulder. The slender wolf staggered sideways and looked like he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, but Eames didn't care. He circled once, then repeated his yip, his tail wagging hard now, asking to scent the other wolf.

For one heart-stopping second, he thought the other wolf wasn't going to let him. That it had all been for nought. But then, primly, the other wolf leant forward and gave Eames's coat a delicate sniff. Eames let his tongue loll happily out of his mouth and reminded himself not to bowl the other wolf over with enthusiasm. He moved in close, burying his nose in fur to get at the undercoat, where the interesting stuff was.

He was a stranger, Eames didn't need scent to tell him that. But what he did smell was a light, superficial layer of the scent of his woods, and deeper down, the scent of fear, humans, enclosures, and even deeper, a faint memory and almost wiped away at this point, pack.

Eames drew back to look at the grey, who blinked a haze out of his eyes as he pulled his own muzzle from Eames's coat. Humans had brought him here, to Eames's reserve. The pack scent wasn't familiar, which wasn't surprising, but Eames wondered how far he'd come. Eames cocked his head, considering, and took one more deep breath of the wolf in front of him. A skinny but hearty wolf rendered packless and alone, but who didn't appear to want or need anyone. A wolf who could have killed Eames, but didn't, and who could have submitted to Mal, but didn't.

Arthur.

Eames pulled his ear and grinned.


End file.
